


Santa’s Christmas Throne *WITH ART*

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Christmas Smut, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Spanking, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21887137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: Aziraphale wants to borrow Crowley's throne for mysterious purposes, Crowley's curiosity gets the better of him, shenanigans ensue in a very festive fashion. NSFW. Link to art at the end notes.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 249





	Santa’s Christmas Throne *WITH ART*

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gingerhaole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerhaole/gifts).



> *Inspired by a real thing – there’s a shopping centre in Wimbledon (London, England) where they have a literal IDENTICAL REPLICA of Crowley’s throne for their Santa’s grotto. I had a chat with Gingerhaole about it on Instagram, and also on one of the NSFW Facebook Good Omens groups, where a fic was demanded, after seeing all the things that Crowley gets up to in that throne courtesy of artists like Gingerhaole (like her work [ "Polaroids"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531924/chapters/48733484) and Aivelin (see – [“the one where Crowley discovers wanking”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19237858) where Aivelin did an [ illustration](https://twitter.com/Aiverin/status/1185921607207964672) to go with the fic). So I offered to come up with something. Enjoy, and Merry Ineffable Christmas.

“WHY do you need to borrow it, Aziraphale?” Crowley demanded. The Angel looked sheepish.

“It’s personal, I’m sorry, I know its short notice, but it’s only for a day, dearest…”

Crowley huffed in frustration. His angel was being remarkably obtuse today. He’d asked to borrow Crowley’s throne, but was very cagey over exactly WHY. Crowley sighed.

“Fine, go ahead Angel, it’s pretty heavy though, need a hand moving it?” Aziraphale shook his head hurriedly.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll miracle it to where I need it and snap it back as soon as I’ve finished with it, don’t worry dearest, you’ll have it back by tonight, I promise.” He snapped his fingers and the throne disappeared.

Crowley leaned in and gave him a kiss. “Well you’d better come back with it too, Angel, don’t leave me hanging on Christmas Eve.” Aziraphale blushed and bustled out of the door.

But demons are nothing if not curious. Like picking at a scab, Crowley just couldn’t let it drop. He spent the afternoon stalking around his flat, restless and pondering what on earth his angel could be up to. He couldn’t even relax by lounging in his throne with his feet up on the red marble desk. He found himself lying on his back in the plant room, glaring at the foliage, and in particular at the ridiculously large Christmas tree that Aziraphale had brought round and festooned with gaudy baubles and tinsel. It had been a little brown here and there on arrival, because Aziraphale had felt sorry for it and bought the one he thought would get left behind, because he was nothing if not soft. So Crowley had glared at it and growled at the other plants to tell the tree what happened to vegetation that allowed itself to get _brown leaves_ in his presence.

He left the room and came back an hour later to the most verdantly green tree he’d ever seen. He couldn’t just kill it of course, or Aziraphale would be upset, and he couldn’t directly threaten it in case the angel picked up on that as well, so his devious loophole was to allow the other plants to put the fear of Crowley into it for him instead.

WHY did his angel want his damned _throne_ though? He sighed and got up, glared at the tree again, and stalked out. He decided to go for a drive to take his mind off things.

Bad idea.

London, Christmas Eve, tourists and shoppers _everywhere_. Oh he was a foolish demon indeed. He ended up heading back home in a huff, and at a loss for further distractions, decided to perform a minor demonic miracle to locate the angel and snap himself to near wherever he was.

He landed in a shopping centre somewhere near Wimbledon. Confused, he cast about. If the angel was doing a bit of last minute Christmas shopping, why on earth would he need a throne as well? It’s not like it was convenient to drag around Debenhams with you.

There were floods of humans everywhere. He unrolled a slight aura of demonic menace sufficient to discourage people from jostling him, instead they gave him a slightly wider berth without quite knowing why they didn’t feel like getting too close to the tall, redheaded skinny Goth twink. He noticed that a considerable number of the humans appeared unnaturally happy – not like the stressed, harassed nature of the typical last minute Christmas shoppers one would encounter at a time and place like this.

The happy shoppers seemed to be coming in a steady stream from a nearby shop unit, festooned with spray-on snow on the windows, and an obscene amount of brightly coloured decorations and twinkling lights. Children were emerging clutching enormous gifts, giant Lego sets, plastic light sabers, a bemused parent finding themselves pushing an entire rocking horse on a wheeled pallet and wondering how on earth this was going to fit in the car to get home, an equally large pink electric toy car driven by a grinning toddler. Crowley grew suspicious…

He bypassed the queue waiting to enter the unit, and noted the “Santa’s Grotto” sign hanging above the entrance with a sense of impending doom. He heard childish laughter, and an astonished parent trying to make sense of something. “But how can you give her that? We only paid a quid to see you, I thought you’d be handing out little bags of chocolate coins or something, how am I going to get that home on the bus anyway?”

The Santa with a bad fake beard was twinkling at them. “Oh I think you’ll manage, look how happy she is!” (And sure enough, a few minutes later a friendly bus driver happily helped them on board with the huge pink plastic dolls house that was larger than the child herself.)

Crowley’s eyes narrowed as he inspected the Santa carefully. And the throne.

Oh.

“Aziraphale…?”

As the child and her parent left, Santa’s eyes flicked up in alarm to lock with Crowley’s guiltily.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing, Angel?”  
“Um….”  
“Why are you _Santa_?”  
“They…. Uh, the firm that was supposed to provide the real Santa’s grotto had a problem and couldn’t make it, and the lady in shop management who is supposed to organise this was already on her last warning at work, her sister’s been so unwell and she was worried that if she didn’t get this right that she’d be out of a job, so I just offered and…”

Crowley sighed. Damn it all, his sweet angel just couldn’t help himself. He snapped his fingers and suddenly he was in an elf costume. A tall, angular elf with dark glasses. “Let me help, you’re getting all miracled out there, Angel, I can feel it.”

They carried on for another two hours, Crowley snapping up gift after gift and handing them over from behind the throne to pass onto the waiting children whose eyes lit up, as their parents gazed on in bemusement at the peculiar generosity of this kind shopping mall Santa Claus.

Eventually closing time rolled around and the place emptied. Crowley waved at the unit door and the shutter rolled down on its own, the lights dimmed, leaving them alone together in the empty unit, save for the low glimmer of fairy lights twinkling. He gazed across at his soft angel fondly. “Oh Angel, whatever am I to do with you?” He sauntered over to where Aziraphale sat in the demon’s throne, and sat himself in his lap.

“I think I owe you one, dearest” the angel sighed.

“One? I dressed as a fucking ELF for you, angel. You owe me a bit more than that.” He wriggled in Aziraphale’s lap suggestively.

“And I’ve been such a good boy.” He winked and ran his hand up through the soft pale curls, dislodging Santa’s hat, before twining his fingers teasingly in his hair. He took his shades off and winked salaciously at the flustered angel. He felt a suspicious hardness swelling under where he sat, and licked his lips teasingly. “Have you any idea, angel…” he began. “… exactly what has been perpetrated in this throne over the years I’ve had it?”

Aziraphale paled.

“… and here you’ve been sitting in it all day making innocent kid’s dreams come true, whilst sitting on a throne of sin, and quite probably several dubious stains in the upholstery…”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Oh… Oh!” he blushed. Crowley giggled.

“I mean, it’s right next to the desk with my phone on it, and my answering machine, whose tape, I’m sure you’ve already discovered, still holds every single recording of your voice you’ve ever left there over the years, which I have wanked myself off to in this throne far more times than I’d care to remember.”

He locked eyes with the angel. “This my dear, is my wanking throne. And yet I’ve never had the object of my desires twined in my arms whilst sat in it. So I think now is about time that we rectified the situation.” His fingers trailed slowly down Aziraphale’s ridiculous red suit to his groin, and squeezed teasingly at the hardness there.

Aziraphale gulped. “You’re a _bad_ elf.”  
Crowley grinned wickedly. “Oh yes.”  
“A very bad elf indeed.”  
“The worst.”  
“You are incorrigible.”  
“Of course. Do you propose to do something about it, Santa?”  
Aziraphale nodded, and grabbed an ornamental candy cane from beside the throne.  
“Drop your trousers and bend over my knee.”  
Crowley couldn’t comply quickly enough.

Aziraphale let rip with the candy cane across his lean buttocks with relish, a delicious series of spankings until Crowley’s rear was a decidedly warm red, and his cock rock hard as he lay over Santa’s lap. “You’re enjoying this far too much, you filthy elf” Aziraphale warned, and reached underneath to grope Crowley’s erection.

“Sorry, Santa” Crowley giggled, unable to help himself, and was rewarded by an extra hard spank across his buttocks – that one stung a bit more than the others.

“Get up” Aziraphale ordered. Crowley obliged obediently. Aziraphale released his own straining cock. “Now lick it like a candy cane.”  
Crowley tried to keep a straight face, but fell to his knees nonetheless and enveloped the warm velvety length in his hot wet mouth, serpentine tongue immediately going to work with a keen fervour, circling and slurping in all directions in a frenzy, anxious to please, as Aziraphale gasped and shuddered under his expert ministrations.

Aziraphale’s eyes rolled back into his head as Crowley’s head bobbed up and down eagerly in his lap to the accompaniment of absolutely lascivious slurping noises. “Oh dearest… oh my word, oh. OH! Oh, _Crowley_ …” Crowley tried not to grin around the cock in his mouth. “Crowley get on your knees in front of me.” After the demon ceased his oral attentions and settled on all fours in front of the throne, Aziraphale miracled up some lube and went to work fingering his tight hole with one hand, whilst gently stroking his own cock with the other, working deep into the demon’s arse, making him groan indecently and rock back into the sensation.

Aziraphale slowly raked his fingers, curled to make contact with the most sensitive area of Crowley’s prostate, making him cry out and shudder, nearly collapsing from the pleasure, before adding another finger and twisting with a cruel pleasure that wrested yet more obscene moans from the demon’s lips. Sufficiently prepared, Aziraphale wiped the remaining lube on his cock and sat back. “Now you need to sit on my lap again, you bad elf.”

Crowley stood and backed up to the throne, resting his hands on the arms of the ornate chair, he lowered himself back onto Aziraphale’s waiting cock, sliding down slowly onto his not inconsiderable girth with a low hiss of ecstasy. Just as he bottomed out, Aziraphale thrust up wickedly, wresting a sharp cry of delight from Crowley, then strong hands were on his hips, pulling him down. He sat and wriggled his serpentine hips in delicious circles, rocking up and down, rolling back and forth as Aziraphale gasped underneath him.

After a minute, Aziraphale’s hand sneaked round to grasp Crowley’s cock firmly, and began stroking it in time with their movements, making the demon momentarily lose control as his body shook involuntarily. As they resumed, pace increasing, Aziraphale’s fist firm around Crowley’s cock, pumping hard, making the demon whine and gasp, teeth gritted, eyes tightly closed and head tipped back, Aziraphale couldn’t help but thrust up into him as he ground down equally fervently onto the angel. He gripped his other arm around Crowley’s slim waist and pulled him close, growling into his ear, his voice deep and dark. “I’m going to come so hard in you, you naughty elf, that you won’t be able to walk for a _week_.”

The words made Crowley explode. He spurted his release all over Aziraphale’s hand, and clamped down hard over the thrusting cock deep inside him, pushing Aziraphale into his orgasm as well, pulsing his come deep inside the demon with a feral growl of satisfaction. Crowley collapsed back against Aziraphale on the throne, head tipped back, breathing hard. Aziraphale turned his head and kissed Crowley gently on the cheek. “I’ve changed my mind, you are a very good elf indeed, my love.” Crowley grinned and turned his head to kiss his angel.

“And you’re still a bad Santa.” He giggled. “Well its Christmas eve and you definitely know who’s naughty and nice, thank you for giving me my present early, Angel.”

Aziraphale grinned wickedly. “I haven’t even _started_ yet, dearest.” He snapped his fingers and both of them were back in Crowley’s flat, still entwined in the throne. “Now cover me in eggnog and lick it off.” Aziraphale demanded with a wicked grin.

[(can't see the image? CLICK HERE)](http://ukshires.net/AO3/warhead_ache0.jpg)

[ ](http://ukshires.net/AO3/warhead_ache4.jpg)

[(Can't see the image? CLICK HERE.)](http://ukshires.net/AO3/warhead_ache4.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the talented @warhead_ache (Nat Renee) on Twitter: 
> 
> [ finished art](https://twitter.com/warhead_ache/status/1209722143577116672?s=21)
> 
> [ NEW, an alternative version, Crowley sucking off Santa Aziraphale! ](https://twitter.com/warhead_ache/status/1210649255330897922/photo/1)
> 
> [ WIP versions ](https://twitter.com/warhead_ache/status/1209319992296128514?s=21)  
>    
> And yes, Terry Pratchett fans will recognise echoes of Hogfather in this fic, that is entirely intentional. I had to stop myself from outright replicating the “give the girl a real sword because it’s educational” skit by Death.


End file.
